Yorkie’s full-time job is bringing smiles to nursing home residents

Tuesday

Sep 29, 2009 at 12:01 AMSep 29, 2009 at 2:38 PM

As Micki Mocha embarks on her day at the Crawford Skilled Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Fall River, the first stop on her daily rounds is the rehabilitation gym, where she sees one of her favorite residents, Bernard O’Donnell. A smile takes over his face as the canine candy striper kisses the Alzheimer’s patient’s upturned chin.

Linda Murphy

As Micki Mocha embarks on her day at the Crawford Skilled Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Fall River, the first stop on her daily rounds is the rehabilitation gym, where she sees one of her favorite residents, Bernard O’Donnell. A smile takes over his face as the canine candy striper kisses the Alzheimer’s patient’s upturned chin.

Make no bones about it; the 10-pound Yorkshire terrier has brightened his day.

“She makes friends with everyone. Some of the people who respond to little else respond to her,” said Crawford executive director Louise Merrick, Micki’s boss and owner. “He (O’Donnell) doesn’t respond to anyone.”

As the elderly man cuddles the pooch on his lap, physical therapy assistant Donna Costa asks, “Did you have a dog Mr. O’Donnell?”

“Mmmm,” he replies.

“Do you like Micki?” Costa queries. “Does she make your day happier?”

“Mmmm … Micki,” he responds as he lovingly pets the coffee-and-chocolate-colored canine.

“I always bring her in here when I work with the patients. She gives them all a boost as soon as they see her,” said Costa. “Micki puts a smile on Mr. O’Donnell’s face every day.”

Though most of her day entails meeting with the residents, she’s also adept at multitasking.

For a short time after lunch, her job shifts from hospitality to the housekeeping department when she mops up the crumbs on the cafeteria floor.

The center maintains a personnel file on the 2-year-old employee for State Department of Health review. She’s had all her shots and is certified in therapeutic pet training.

“She’s grown up in nursing homes,” said Merrick. “Some people don’t like dogs. She has an innate ability to know who those people are and she avoids them.”

Living with the boss may have some advantages, like being able to take a break on her desk, but it has yet to gain Micki access to the kitchen, one of the places she’d just love to explore. And the pay is lousy — nonexistent in fact. But the perks are plenty: lovingly knitted coats and sweaters from the residents, dog treats and plenty of toys for Christmas.

After leaving the gym, Micki makes a quick detour to say hello to Essie DeMelo, scheduler and central supply coordinator. As Micki races toward DeMelo with exuberant tail-wagging, it’s evident that the pair have a lasting work friendship. It’s also obvious that DeMelo is the keeper of the workplace treats, though in this case it’s not a strategically placed candy jar but a pocketful of tiny doggie bones.

Micki usually hitches a ride on the elevator with DeMelo and accompanies her as she passes out supplies.

“She’s great with the patients. She doesn’t judge — it doesn’t matter to her if you’re blind or you have one leg. She gives unconditional love,” said DeMelo. “She makes my life better, too. I love coming to work.”

Micki cautiously makes her way to the elevator, trotting along the side of the hallway, avoiding patients with walkers and stopping before each doorway to prevent collisions. Before getting on the elevator, she says a quick hello to Bob LaBrie, who’s hanging out in the lobby and sporting a hat decorated with fish and shells from a party a day earlier.

“I really missed her when she was on vacation,” he says.

Micki gracefully leaps over the cavernous space between the floor and the elevator and prepares for the second act of her day.

Heads turn and smiles light up the faces of a group of long-term residents gathered near the nurses’ station as Micki makes her way to them.

Merrick carefully places her on Marilyn Miller’s lap, and tears stream down Miller’s face as she holds Micki like a baby, gently petting her silky fur.

“Hi, sweetheart. Mommy’s here,” she says.

“Why are you crying, Mrs. Miller,” asks Merrick. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” replies Miller. “I love her.”

On occasion Micki switches up her usual fur coat work attire for a costume. On “Angel Day” a day of anonymous kindness, she donned angel wings and a halo, and one year she took first place when she dressed up as a hot dog in a bun for Halloween.

After visiting with Miller, she stops to give Arthur Arruda a quick kiss on the nose before turning into Mabel Correali’s room. “There’s my baby,” says Correali, who just turned 101.

Photos tacked up to a bulletin board show Correali with two dogs on the farm in Dalton where she used to live.

“I love to see her — that is the one thing I miss in here. Dogs. I always had two dogs,” said Correali. “Come here and give me kisses.”

It’s clear Micki’s doggedly dedicated to her job as she makes her way along the second floor, peeking into doorways and stopping in to see her friends.

“When we go home at night she’s exhausted. She puts in a full day of work,” said Merrick. “She’s definitely made a difference in the 124 residents here.”

The Herald News

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